


Tiamat's Tail

by solarpillar (solarwind)



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarwind/pseuds/solarpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then the tide turned, the young king dragged to war like a sailor by the sea, and it rained stars as if dead Tiamat had shaken her tail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiamat's Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sensenaoya at tumblr.

There were things that even Naoya might not know. Or perhaps he knew. Either way, he seemed to avoid Kazuya, despite Kazuya's affections for him. He definitely knew.

  
It was a strange thing, to be loved but act so lonely. Or perhaps not. Even in a crowd, a soul could be lonely.

  
When they were children, or rather, when Kazuya was a child and Naoya was every bit of an ancient in a child's body, Naoya was polite. Too polite. Kazuya loved him, bullied him, adorned his head with wild flowers and ants and scraps, asked for stories and hugs when the older cousin was too tired and melancholic, but the man was always cold and polite, and only once Kazuya was also Abel that he realised how much Naoya had acted like an angel. Demonologists had not mistaken Cain for a fallen angel for nothing, or called him a demon of protection for nothing.

  
Then the tides turned for both of them, or rather for Naoya but Kazuya was dragged in like a sailor by the sea, and Kazuya chose Naoya, and it was as if dead Tiamat had shaken her tail.

  
When Kazuya was a child, his love was innocent. Or not. No old soul was ever innocent. He had attached himself to Naoya, to the brother figure so perfect for him, who catered to his every need, never indulged them but answered to each of them truthfully, sincerely, and never once ever talked down to him as most adults did. Naoya had always spoke to him as an equal, as someone who remembered as much as he did. Perhaps he did remember. Perhaps it was all only a dream, an illusion, and nobody survived beside a conviction that they did. Perhaps it was really poison gas, and this was only a nightmare of the afterlife.

  
In light of their origin, with their identities bared, Naoya was not polite. He tempted and preached, invited and pressured, and though he claimed to have another chance, he seized this one no less than the next one.

  
When Kazuya was a child, he painted Naoya's white walls and notebooks with crayons and lipsticks, the colours difficult to wash, but the room was a great deal less blank and a great deal more lively, and Naoya had smiled a proud smile for the first time of Kazuya's life.

"You seem to prefer colourful chaos over blank order. My commendation."

  
When Kazuya was an adult and a king, he painted the throne room's floor red with blood, and Naoya smiled the same smile.

"You seem to know when mercy is no longer necessary. My commendation."

  
When did things change? When had Tiamat decided that her children must be murdered, when she doted on them once? Naoya once looked at his children with fondness, once looked at Kazuya with fondness, and there was eventually in these eyes nothing but crawling chaos.

  
Kazuya was once a child, and his cousin once looked upon him with a mixed fondness. He used to crown Naoya with diadems of wildflowers, badly weaved by a child's clumsy hands, and Naoya crowned him with a true crown of darkness, overflown with power.

  
Kazuya was once a child, and he painted his cousin's books with smiles drawn with crayons. But once Kazuya was king they painted summoning circles with angel's blood, and Kazuya's textbooks were brand new and blank, school neglected for lessons in power and politics.

  
But like diadems of flowers were removed from Naoya's head as they dried and died, Naoya removed the burden of crown from Kazuya's head as the heavenly hosts died, and the king's textbooks filled with doodles, no longer in crayons but gel pens and highlighters.

  
But neither of them will be children again. Though crowns and rings of wildflowers were still made, and Naoya stayed.

  
These chaos in his eyes seemed to have changed, and the storm, past.

  
The sun was warm on their skin.


End file.
